Questioning Beliefs
by Melidell
Summary: After the last events of DA2, LadyMage!Hawke has been captured before she could escape the fallen city of Kirkwall. Thrown into the dungeons with only her thoughts and the wrath of the Templars for company, past events come to light. . .SUMMARY INSIDE.


**A/N:** For now, this is a one shot. But it has the potential to be turned into something more. Maybe I will sit down one day and write another chapter for this, but I hope you enjoy it as it was meant to be regardless. Please R&R, it really means a lot :)

Thank you for the faves and reviews:** Kee C.S; Obsidian Lotus; Starrfier and karebear**, you just made my day! :)

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><p><strong><span>QUESTIONING BELIEFS<span>**

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><p><strong>SUMMARY<strong>

After the last events of DA2, LadyMage!Hawke has been captured before she could escape the fallen city of Kirkwall. Thrown into the dungeons with only her thoughts and the wrath of the Templars for company, past events come to light and she is forced to question the loyalty of her friends, their true intentions and her own ignorance. Although they have come to save her, is it too late to forget and forgive?

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><p><strong><span>Chapter One: Realization<span>**

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><p>I woke to the sound of voices, many voices all trying to be heard at once. It felt strange, as I knew I should've known these voices. But before that trail of thought could be further examined it disappeared, leaving me with unanswered questions. It didn't matter though, I would find out the answers as I had all the time in the world. I slowly branched out my senses to figure out my surroundings. It was cold, I was in a room of made from dull and dark stone. A locked door of bars showed my only escape, not counting the miniscule window at the far corner from where I sat on the floor. My neck throbbed, my body held in barely supressed agony, or perhaps I was simply used to it. How long had I sat here, head resting on the scratched stone wall? My fingers were caked in dry blood, a raw mess of distraction, or self-harm. Scratches also decorated the surrounding stone, the rich red showing sharply in a colourful splash, proving that I had either been tortured or fallen into madness. Either one provided a welcome explanation; at least I now had a foothold of the memories that didn't exist.<p>

_I am important_, _powerful._

People feared me because of whom, no, what I am.

_Magic?_

Yes, it made sense. In this world, magic was bad.

_Was that why I had been locked up?_

No, that didn't seem right. It was more than just me being a mage, something far worse. I had freed someone, a friend that had betrayed me. He had committed an act of evil, and I had simply let him go.

_What did he do? What did I do?_

I was blamed while he escaped. It made sense now; I was far too nice, someone that could forgive you for murder or theft, someone that didn't mind being used as long as it helped people. Someone that had hidden a dark side that ran a mile long.

The voices are getting closer, and if possible, louder. It was an argument, one that was being won efficiently by a group of people that had the familiar voices. I couldn't attach their faces or their names, but their voices promised company.

_Those voices belong to the people that used me, the people that would never help me in return without the promise of gold._

Suddenly, I didn't want to remember, not if remembering bought so much suppressed anger. They appeared one by one, led by a man coated in metal armour and a purple cloth skirt. To top off the ridiculous outfit was a bucket helmet, hiding his features effectively. He was unknown, unwatched, and I envied him for it.

"_Hawke_?"

This voice was the first that spoke, the smooth tone of a storyteller.

_Varric. He provided me the offer to join Bartrand's expedition, giving me hope for a better life. Instead I ended up trapped in the Deep Roads by his brother for a week, resulting in the death of Carver and a whole lot of money, spent to placate a grieving mother. Although considered a victory to others, I had lost more than I could ever gain and it had not been worth it. _

He had been the start_._

"_Oh Maker_ . . . What have you _done_ to her?"

Strong, like an unwavering shield.

_Aveline. Captain of the guard. She had accompanied me from Lothering, we had both lost much. She, her husband, and me my sister. Except she never had the constant worry of a family to provide for, a mother that couldn't look at her without blame filled eyes. A mother that had been murdered in cold blood by a blood mage, obsessed in recreating his wife. A maleficar that had been ignored by the guard, ignored by her, until it was too late. I had helped her move on, but she had only buried me in more of my unspent grief. _

She had been the thought.

Light footstep could be heard, echoing in my ears. An elf knelt down next to me, a shock of pure white hair on his head and deep eyes like those of jungle cat. His arms enveloped me after a moment and I simply fell against his chest, unfeeling and probably as cold as the floor.

"Hawke, I'm so sorry, we should never have let them get hold of you. We're taking you away forever, my love, _you're safe_."

Untold bitterness and a hatred that had grown in slavery, and a voice that had once made my heart stutter.

_Fenris. The Magisters little wolf. He loathed me in the beginning, could not stand the fact that I wielded magic. But then things changed, and his hatred turned into a mutual understanding, something I could work with, something that made his love for me okay. We needed each other, but after a night of fiery passion he had left me alone, unwilling to talk. Returning years later, he had asked for forgiveness and another chance, I had refused. A broken heart needed time, but mine had been utterly destroyed without a chance of survival, him leaving had been the final crush._

He had been the reason.

"Lethallan? Are you . . . _are you okay_?"

Shy, naïve. The picture of innocence, doe green eyes wide in sustained curiosity.

_Merril. The Dalish blood mage. I gave her my friendship and protected her from the cruelty of the world as best as I could, only to realise that all she wanted, all she needed, was for the mirror to be fixed. Everything else didn't matter as long as her lost history could be restored, no matter the price to pay or the lives lost. She had been obsessed, and an obsessed blood mage was dangerous. Something that had taken my mother's death for me to learn._

She had been the determination.

"I don't think she can hear us, Kitten."

A beautiful and exotic woman, weighed down by golden jewellery.

_Isabela. The pirate queen. I saved her life and assisted her when the hired mercenaries came to finish her off in place of a duel, promising to help her find the relic. She was the reason the Qunari came, she was the reason that they went on a rampage among the city and killed the viscount, throwing Kirkwall into disrepair and placing me into the eyes of every citizen and Templar. _

She had been the kindling.

Things were starting to make sense, my companions talk becoming a drone in the background, unchanging in volume or emotion, allowed me a chance to remember the basics of the past decade. Finer details would come later, and perhaps if I had the energy I would answer their questions.

_Anders. Oh dear sweet Anders, lost to Vengeance and the undying fight for justice. An abomination in the eyes of some, but a friend in others. He had helped me overcome the barrier that had been Fenris, had hoped for something that I could not provide. Desperate to make a change, to take the first step, to make the sacrifice. Had he known what he was doing half the time? For some reason, I knew he had not; Vengeance had powered his thoughts and controlled his actions. But in the seconds that he had given his life to me, he had been coherent, regretful even. The spirit had retreated at last, smug as the cat that had caught the canary. _

He had been the flame.

"Stop."

My voice ran clear, sounding hollow to my ears. But the desired effect had been achieved and the cell fell into silence, all eyes turned on me. I felt empty, there was no purpose anymore. No ambition or drive. In fact, for the first time in my life nothing was being asked of me. And it felt amazing. There was no whining, pleads for help, words of disgust or hatred or even of praise. Simply silence. It didn't have to end either; there was nothing for me at Kirkwall. I could just leave and start again, anonymous among the crowds in Orlais, Rivain or Tevinter even.

"I'm going to be leaving now, thank you for your friendship, I'm sure I appreciated it somewhere along the line."

I stood up sharply, managing to manoeuvre my way out of Fenris' arms. Taking one step forward, and then another, until I had reached the cell door, the silence finally broken by the lone Templar.

"Wait a minute! I have strict orders for you to remain here until you've been made tranquil. No tattooed sun on your forehead, no leaving." The Templar smirked, expecting me to submit as I had done previously to his barbed comments. But I would never have someone tell me what to do ever again, the weight and the consequences were too heavy.

"I'm sorry, serrah, but I'm afraid I can't let you stop me." I smiled softly at him, cocking my head slightly to the side. Electricity coursed through my veins, reminding me of what I was. I had been reluctant before, but now I embraced the power my 'curse' had brought me, revelling in it even. I bought my hand up and made a sudden twisting jerk with my wrist, relying on the raw energy that I had unlocked. The Templar had no time to scream as he was slammed against the wall, his bones being crushed by the large metal armour and the impact. Fortunately it had been a quick death, messy but efficient, his vital organs destroyed in a fraction of a second. Stalling things like these had never boded well with my conscious.

I sighed deeply before turning around to regard the people who had provided work and distraction for my entire stay at Kirkwall. If they had not been there, would I still have been living in a hovel with Gamlen? Staying part of the Red Irons forever? Or maybe I would have found another way up in life and stayed hidden in the family manor, leaving Carver to take over the mantle that I had been forced to wear and to become something more. There were too many possibilities and choices that I could no longer know for certain what could have happened had I not met the group of people that had changed my life forever. Perhaps I would forgive them eventually, but I needed time. I needed freedom and as long as I was with them, there would always be something holding me back, something I had to do.

"Hawke?" Merril whispered, her voice trembling and eyes filled with unspent tears. They were shocked, maybe even scared. But it was not time to worry about their feelings or reactions anymore, it was my life and I would spend it accordingly.

"It's Fae, actually. But I don't suppose you knew that, did you?" Their silence was enough of an answer. "Goodbye," I replied finally, nodding my head curtly in recognition before once again summoning my mana from the fade. The stone wall exploded under the pressure I had placed upon it easily, light flooding the dark dungeons. With this power, I could move mountains, destroy forests, start wars even. There was to be no more holding back.

I walked away from them, leaving all the emotion of twelve years behind. They would find me eventually; it was in their natures to seek me out when times got tough.

But until then, I would be alone to start my own adventure, to create my own story and to live my own life.

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><p><strong>DA2 and everything involved in it belongs to Bioware, I am simply playing in their sandbox :<strong>).


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